“Donna Lucinda came through the gate of the drive and up to where the car was standing; it was sideways on to the gate; Lady Eunice sat on the side near the gate, I was on the other side, with Nina between us. Lucinda seemed to see Eunice first, and to recognize her; she made a very slight formal little bow—as she would to a customer. The next second her eyes fell on Nina and on me. She stopped short, just by the car. Her cheeks flushed a little, and she gave a little low exclamation—‘Oh!’ or ‘Ah!’—I hardly heard it. Then, ‘It’s Nina!’ That was hardly louder. I just heard it. Eunice, of course, must have and Nina; I doubt whether Jefferson could. Then she gave a queer little laugh—what you’d call a chuckle coming from an ordinary person—as if she were laughing to herself, inwardly amused, but not expecting anybody else to share her amusement. She didn’t look a bit put out or awkward. But the next moment she smiled directly at me—across the other two—and shook her head—sympathizing with me in my predicament, I think. “Nina made her a stately bow. She was very dignified, but a little flushed too. She looked somehow disturbed and puzzled. It seemed as if she really were shocked and upset to see Lucinda like that. The next moment she leant right across Eunice, throwing out her hand towards the bandbox that Lucinda was carrying. “‘Surely there’s no need for you to do that?’ she said, speaking very low. ‘And—I hope you’re better?’ “Lucinda spoke up quite loud. ‘I like it, thank you. There’s every need for me to earn my living; and I’ve never been better in my life, thank you.’ “Nina turned her head round to the chauffeur. ‘I’ll call you, Jefferson.’ He touched his hat and strolled off along the road, taking out a cigarette case. Nina turned back to Lucinda, leaning again across Lady Eunice, who was sitting back in her seat, looking rather frightened; I don’t know whether she knew who Lucinda was; I don’t think so; but it must have been pretty evident to her that there was thunder in the air. “‘How long have you been doing this? Does your husband know you’re doing it?’ “Her questions sounded sharp and peremptory; Lucinda might well have resented them. “‘Of course he knows; he’s known it for three months. It’s just that I like to be independent.’ She gave a little bow with that, as if she meant to end the conversation, but before she could walk on—if that was what she meant to do—Nina flung herself back on the cushions, exclaiming in a low voice, but passionately, ‘How dare he tell me lies like that!’ “‘What do you mean——?’ Lucinda began. But Nina would not wait for her. ‘Call Jefferson,’ she told me. ‘Are you coming with us, Godfrey?’ “I called Jefferson, and then answered her question. ‘Thanks awfully, but I’m afraid I can’t. I’m engaged to lunch.’ And I shut the door of the car which Jefferson had left still open.